A Relationship to Define You Both
by vampirealchemist13
Summary: It was destiny; Captain & First Officer, friends, lovers. It would be a relationship to eventually define the two of them in ways they had yet to imagine. Basically, the movie, rewritten, into a Spock/Kirk slash. This is slash! Don't like? Don't read!


I AM AN OFFICIAL STAR TREK JUNKIE!

This is my first Star Trek FF, so be nice please :)

Anyways, so a lot of the dialogue is not mine; a lot is. The story follows the same plotline, but with different feelings and, sometimes, words behind the actions, because the sexual tension was _so_ there, and I wanted it to come out!

I went back and edited different parts so many times to fit the new ideas that I chose to make it one long story instead of a bunch of different chapters, so it's really long.

Enjoy!

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**A Relationship to Define You Both**

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**He was not aware how James Tiberius Kirk had managed to defeat his test, but it could not go unpunished. Cheaters and back-alley solutions finders were not meant for Starfleet; they were dishonorable and not at all fitting for the captain position aboard any vessel.

Immediately following the last test taker, Spock had made his way to the Starfleet Office to file a hearing for the next day against the pompous young man. Whether the board ruled in his favor or not, Kirk would at least be suspended from any and all duties until he was completely cleared. Though it seemed vengeful, it was also logical; Starfleet could not have such a cadet vying for the captain position in the middle of a crisis after all.

Sitting in the hearing room, he proudly stood when called upon to face the one he was accusing. Kirk should know whom he was attempting to cheat.

It seemed to Spock as though Kirk thought he could weasel his way out. He was grinning like a fool at the Board, attempting to win them over with his charm and easy words.

"You have missed the basic point of the test, cadet."

"Enlighten me." _Gladly_, Spoke thought.

"You of all people should know, Cadet. A captain cannot cheat death." He could tell his remark had struck a nerve, elicited an emotional response, but Kirk was calm and collected. Spock almost had to praise the man for his calm exterior.

"I of all people?"

"Your father, Captain George Kirk assumed command of his ship only a few minutes before being killed, did he not?" Spock could not manage to stop himself. Those years of taunting came back to him, and he found he was hating himself—he was doing to this cadet what the Vulcan children on his own planet had done to him. He had no reason to continue this; it was not winning him his case. It was simply an attempt to make the cadet look bad, and it was starting to wind back on him.

"An academic vernacular; you cheated." The board member had interrupted him to inform Kirk again of the charge against him.

"The test itself is a cheat, is it not?" The boy thought he was so clever.

"Your question precludes the definition of a no-win scenario."

"I don't believe in no-win situations." The boy truly was a fool.

"Then not only," Spock interrupted, "did you cheat, you failed to understand the point of the test."

"Enlighten me again."

"The point is to experience fear." A fear Spock had long ago locked away to keep himself from hurting anyone—namely himself. But Spock's impending paragraph about fear was cut short when a messenger ran through to talk to the head of the Board.

"We have received a distress signal from Vulcan." Spock's lungs constricted, and he had to grip the podium for stability. What was this feeling that crept inside him? It felt almost like fear, but that was illogical. Wasn't it?

"All cadets are to report to the hanger for assignments." Spock left the room immediately before he could show any emotion at all; he had to get to that hanger and onto the _Enterprise_. There was no time to waste.

Communications Officer Uhura did not seem to think so, as she was happy to hound him about her assignment.

"While you are well aware that my desire is to serve on the _Enterprise_, I'm assigned to the _Farragut?_"

"It was an attempt to avoid the appearance of favoritism." He would not tell her it was an attempt to keep her emotional needs away from him; he simply could find no logical way to break it off. To anger Uhura would undoubtedly lead to problems he was not willing to deal with.

"No, I'm assigned to the _Enterprise_." He sighed, changing her assignment to fit her needs. The woman was a nuisance, but not as annoying as Cadet Kirk who, thankfully, was grounded on academic suspension.

"Yes, I believe you are."

"Thank you." He ignored her thanks and left, finding his shuttle.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Who is that pointy-eared bastard?" Jim looked at the Vulcan who had walked away so suddenly. The man had been purposely trying to get a rise out of him; he had been in enough fights in Iowa to know that.

"I don't know," Bones muttered. "But I like him." Of course, anyone who got off on making fun of Jim was a friend of Bones. Never mind that the Vulcan had been using his father against him—an unfair card, in Jim's opinion. There was no honor in a move like that.

"Whatever," he muttered. He had a ship to board.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

He should have realized, logically, that the cadet could only bring more trouble. After all, he was hardly the type to simply sit back and do nothing. Still, he had hoped that Cadet Kirk could find some other day to bother them all with his cries for attention, rather than the day his planet was in distress, though for all he knew, it was simply a distress call; no attack.

"Mister Kirk, I think you've had enough attention for the day. Doctor McCoy, please escort him back to medical bay. We'll have words." Spock knew the brat would not give without a fight.

"This cadet is trying to save this ship!"

"By ordering a full-ship stop in the middle of warp speed?" Had he been fully human, he would have laughed. What kind of idiot would do such a thing?

"This ship is flying straight into an attack!"

"Based on what evidence?" There was no hope this time; the cadet was incapable of even the smallest facts. Captain Pike had told him multiple times of the cadet's aptitude tests—his commander had high hopes for the son of the man who had saved his life twenty-one years ago. Spock, however, was not so inclined.

Anyone could memorize facts; Spock had spent the first half of his life doing so. It took logic to actually use those facts in a way that was beneficial, and Kirk…

…was proving he could be quite logical after all.

"That anomaly we saw earlier, a lightning storm in space, also appeared on the day of my birth. The same day a Romulan ship attacked the U.S.S. Kelvin. You know that sir; I read your dissertation." Pike was clearly impressed, and Spock would be a dishonest man if he said he was not as well.

"Last night at 2300 hours, communications intercepted a Klingon message about one ship, one massive Romulan ship. They were destroyed."

"Where are you getting your information," Pike inquired. Clearly the cadet had stolen the information or falsified it.

Communications Officer Uhura spoke up.

"I intercepted and translated the message; Kirk's report is accurate." Pike looked to Spock, who realized, unfortunately, he had no choice but to nod in Pike's direction.

"The cadet's logic is sound, and we would be wise to accept Uhura's translation, as she is unmatched in communications and languages."

"Entering Vulcan in five…"

"Kirk, stay here. You might be of some use after all." Spock glanced over at Kirk when Pike said those words, ready to glare, but when he caught the blue-eyed blonde looking at him as well, he felt the hate drain from his eyes. The four remaining seconds before entering Vulcan slowed down and he saw something that was not the smug, self-satisfied smirk he had expected.

The cadet almost seemed to be searching for something—something Spock felt was familiar. It almost seemed like acceptance, but it was illogical for Kirk to want anything of the sort from the Vulcan. Spock concluded, returning his gaze to the front, that the look had been given to Pike and simply left there when he turned to look at Spock.

"…one."

"_Evasive action!_" Pike called the command not half a second after the _Enterprise_ entered Vulcan. Debris from the other Starfleet ships was flying everywhere, and Spock was worried for his planet, but he stood strong.

Reports from the beam-up platform informed all aboard the ship that transportation was impossible; something was blocking the signal. Spock, however, was more concerned with the enormous drill burning a hole in the center of the planet. His planet.

He had no care for Kirk anymore; he was desperately trying to reign in the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. He could not allow any emotion to impact his decisions. They needed to save Vulcan from this attack.

"Captain, we're being hailed!"

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

Spock, Sulu, and Jim followed the Captain down to the shuttle. He resented the fact that the Captain said he was causing trouble, but he followed without complaint anyways. Somehow, he knew his stay onboard the _Enterprise_ was about to get a lot more interesting.

After all, Pike had asked for people capable in hand-to-hand combat, hence Sulu.

"Captain, it's a trap."

"I must agree with the Cadet. We gain nothing by going over."

"I know that. Spock, you're Captain now. Kirk, you and Sulu and the engineer Olson will parachute down to the drill, disable whatever it is jamming our signal, and beam me out of the ship. It's the only way we can distract them." Jim, not very big on logic, could not argue the captain's point.

"What about you, sir?" Pike looked at him.

"Well, you'll just have to come and get me. Kirk, I'm promoting you to First Officer."

"What!" Jim had told Pike it would take him three years to get onboard a ship; he never said anything about being First Officer. Despite the fact that he wanted to be a captain, Kirk was not sure he wanted to be either that or a First Officer just yet. He certainly didn't want to have command under the pointy-eared bastard that had just gotten him in trouble with the Starfleet Board.

Then again, he thought, looking at the Vulcan who was discussing the practicality of human pranks, he was only one ranking beneath the jerk that had just tried to get him grounded—and succeeded to boot.

He knew his face was pulled into a smug grin, and he tried not to look at Spock, but he couldn't help one quick glance.

Time stood still in that instant. Brown eyes, filled with loathing, captivated him and riveted him to the spot, forbidding him from moving. His blue eyes met Spock's and there was a spark, an emotion so real and different from any Jim had ever experienced, that even the hatred in the Vulcan eyes dimmed to a confusion and curiosity that mirrored his own.

Pike's voice snapped them both awake, and Jim stepped into the elevator as the moment broke. As the doors closed on Spock's face, their eyes met once more and this time, Jim was sure—it wasn't hate that was reflecting back at him.

Jim was determined more than ever to come back in one piece. Something different had happened, and James T. Kirk despised being confused.

"So," he muttered to Sulu after they had gotten their gear attached. "What kind of hand-to-hand combat?"

"Fencing," Sulu admitted. Kirk nodded. It wasn't like his was much better, if he was being honest. He didn't often win his battles, as his situation at the bar three years ago had indicated, as had half his battles.

Olson sat to his right, decked in all red, muttering to himself excitedly. It was like this kid was straight out of an action movie, and it frightened Jim; people that excited, and that young, were headstrong and reckless. That wasn't to say that he wasn't, but he had a method to the madness. This kid looked like he just wanted to hit something; there was nothing he was fighting for except to fight.

And those were the most volatile and dangerous.

Pike's decision to give him the charges had probably not been the wisest; it was a gut feeling, but his gut hardly ever led him in the wrong direction.

Jim and Sulu exchanged a look as they prepared to drop; they were about to experience a massive adrenaline rush, and they were both ready. Pike released them, and Jim felt everything prior to that moment fly away. He knew if he didn't pull his parachute in time, he would die, but that simply added to the excitement of the ground and their destination on the drill rushing up towards him.

As he fell, he thought back to the pointy-eared bastard sitting in the captain's chair at that very moment. He had only met Spock a few hours ago when he had tried to have him grounded, yet their relationship had been as volatile and changing as a hormonal teenager. Although their current stance was somewhere between loathing and a sort of forced respect, Jim knew he was going to be getting to know Spock a lot better.

He found it to be a challenge; one he looked forward to.

Speaking of challenges, he realized the young man in red considered it a challenge to get as close as possible before pulling the chute.

"Pull your chute!" He yelled into the mike as both he and Sulu floated down to the platform of the drill. "Pull it!"

It was too late. He hit the side of the platform and was sucked into the drill's blast—along with the charges.

Jim took great pride in the fact that he was the only one able to correctly land on the drill, but he was relieved to see Sulu had made it—the pilot was starting to grow on him. A Romulan, presumably the one maintaining and operating the drill, emerged from the drill, followed by another, and Sulu joined him in engaging them in combat. Apparently, fencing was a good talent to have, he noted as Sulu kicked the crap out of his opponent.

Thanking Pike for the reinforced suit, he began fighting the Romulan not trying to stab Sulu. Jim found hand to hand slightly easier against the Romulans than he had thought; despite their similarities to Vulcans, it appeared they did not share their strength—a fact Jim was happy for.

After blasting the drill to bits, Jim called in.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_; beam us up."

"This is _Enterprise_, maintain position. We'll have you and the pilot back shortly." Of course, that would have been too easy. The drill began retracting, and though he remained standing, Sulu, on the edge of the drill, as not so lucky.

"Damn it all," he muttered, running off the end for the pilot. It took all of four seconds to catch Sulu, but his relief was short-lived when his parachute broke from the pack. "Kirk to _Enterprise; _beam up now!"

"Moving too fast, we can't get you up here!"

"Beam us up, now!" Jim didn't much care for her excuses; he just wanted results. Chekov's voice came through the intercom, but Kirk couldn't understand anything anymore. He and Sulu were still falling, and Jim realized his shoot-first method was turning into jump-first, a dangerous new choice of words.

But he felt the pull, saw the light, and grinned; Chekov was definitely an asset to the team. The ensign deserved a pay raise, or whatever it was he wanted, because even Jim knew beaming a moving target was a difficult task, especially for someone not trained for it.

"Nice work, Chekov."

"Clear the platform." Jim looked up to see the acting captain climb on the platform.

"What?" Jim was looking at him stupidly as he clambered off; had he been in his right mind, he would have questioned the fact that he was considering Spock almost handsome in this light. He had, after all, just plummeted from space, disabled a drill, and then almost met the ground of Vulcan in a most unpleasant way.

"I'm going down." The new First Officer knew that was probably not a good move.

"Down—down where? Down there? You're going down there? Are you nuts? Spock, you can't do that!"

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Spock, take care of the ship; she's brand new." If it was possible, his eyebrow raised higher.

_Captain Pike knows what he is doing,_ Spock repeated to himself on his short trek back to the bridge. It was illogical to have such little faith in the captain, but he had no choice; he would lose control of his emotions otherwise, for it was most certainly not a logical choice on the captain's part.

"Monitor the captain's vitals, as well as those of the men disabling the drill." Minutes later, the monitor displayed the termination of the new cadet. Spock could not ignore the strange sense of relief that came with knowing Kirk was still alive. Of course, he felt regret that the cadet had fallen, but why would he not be relieved at the fact that Sulu was still alive as well?

Kirk simply got under his skin in a way he could not discern, and it troubled him, though not as much as the fact that his planet was being attacked. That little bit still irked and worried him more than anything else.

"Sir, the drill has been disabled," Chekov turned to him. "Unfortunately, there is still a problem." Spock, however logical, was finding the young Russian's words unbelievable.

"They're going to create a black hole in the center of Vulcan?" How many logical minutes could be saved by simply saying things simply rather than terms that required heavy simplification? "How long does the planet have?"

"Minutes, sir. Minutes." Spock was in the elevator before Chekov had finished his reply.

"Where are you going?" Spock wanted to glare at Uhura, but he kept his temper.

"The High Council—they are charged with protecting our way of life. My parents will be with them. Order an immediate evacuation of Vulcan as fast as possible." His last order was directed at Chekov.

"Can't you beam them out?"

"No, they will be too far underground. I must go down myself. Chekov, you have the com."

"Aye, sir." Spock never heard the reply; he had to save his parents—his mother. He would never forgive himself, especially as it all could have been avoided had he simply listened to Cadet—First Officer—Kirk.

James Tiberius Kirk. Though his feet continued moving, Spock felt his mind stop. At the beginning of the day, Spock had wanted nothing more than to get the bumbling fool dismissed from Starfleet, but the looks the two had shared through the last few hours were getting hard to ignore. Something about Kirk baffled him to an extreme that he had not thought possible.

His ability to act like an idiot, and then use logic at a level equal to his own. How he seemed to care for nothing at all yet defended the crew with his life. Spock had had him grounded, yet he was out, as a First Officer, fighting for the lives of the crew, in mortal danger.

Perhaps Kirk was not such a terrible choice after all; someone who did not believe in no-win situations rather than someone who operated on logic alone did have benefits, after all. Especially when logic and reason were used with that shoot-first-always-an-option attitude.

"I can do that!" Repeating the same line, the Chekov passed him, running from the bridge, presumably to the transport room. There were no time to finish his thoughts on Kirk; he had to beam down to save his mother and the rest of the council.

First Officer Kirk and pilot Sulu were on the platform when he arrived and Chekov was beaming; apparently, that answered his unasked question. Still, he climbed onto the platform.

"Clear the platform. I'm going down." Spock ignored the protests from his new First Officer—the title still left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, that look—the eyes. Even now, they were on him in a way unbefitting of a First Officer for his Captain. "Energize."

Thoughts of James Kirk left him when adrenaline began pumping through him—he had to save his mother and the Elders.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"You're going down there? Are you nuts? Spock, you can't do that!"

"Energize." Jim's words fell on deaf ears.

"Damn you, Spock." Jim pulled off his outer gear, stripping down to his black pants and turtleneck before hopping aboard the platform. "Beam me down, Chekov. He's not going in without back-up. If Spock and I both die, tell Uhura she's in charge of picking a new First Officer for captain; I trust her to make the right choice. Energize."

A blue shirt about a hundred yards from him told Jim where he needed to go, and he followed. He made it fairly well, tripping only once, though that trip cost him a gash in his right arm. Ignoring the pain in favor of adrenaline, he continued to trail Spock through the falling rocks of the dying planet. When he reached a cave that Spock had disappeared into only a minute earlier, though, he realized his presence was rather unneeded; Spock was leading the elders out of the cave, along with a woman that he clung to with a persistence that made Jim, daresay, jealous.

"Kirk to _Enterprise._ I'm with Spock, beam me up." He heard some sort of reply telling him to stand still, and he watched the Vulcans, feeling that, for once, his shoot-first nature had been useless. Did he not trust his captain to do his job? For once, Jim felt like maybe he really was out for attention, and that hurt him more than anything Spock had ever said could have.

Then, he saw the rock crack, even as the beam-up light surrounded the woman on the wrong end of the cracks. He saw Spock, who had not yet realized his presence reach out for her, calling something to her.

There was no time to be logical, to decide if this woman was worth it. All he knew was that a woman, someone Spock was willing to risk his life for, was in danger, and that Spock could do nothing from where he stood, which left it to Jim to do something. He didn't know how he knew he was going to make it, or how he was going to even survive the fall. He didn't even know why he was bothering, considering only hours before, Spock had been trying to get him kicked out of Starfleet.

The only thing James T. Kirk knew was that there was no such thing as a no-win situation, and he'd be damned if he failed a captain, no matter how much of an ass, this early on.

So he jumped.

And he fell.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Mother!" The crumbling rocks and explosions from all angles assaulting all his senses made it difficult to hear his own voice over the roar of noise. His arm reached for her, as though simply putting his hand where she had been would bring her back, but as he rematerialized back on the ship, still staring at the open space, he knew his efforts to save her—to save the one person who had accepted him as he was, the only one to understand him—had been in vain. He had ensured the continuation of the Vulcan way of life by saving the Elders, but he had been unable to save his mother.

His Vulcan half knew how illogical it was to feel such regret. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and she had been one of the few, but his human half told him to be selfish, to want her to be one of the many that were saved—though not many had been saved.

"Where's Kirk?" The hesitant question startled Spock. "What can you mean?" He calmly asked Sulu. "He should still be somewhere on the ship after Chekov beamed the two of you up." While the man looked proud at the Vulcan-almost-compliment, he also looked uncomfortable as Sulu answered. "Well, you see, sir, Kirk wasn't sure the decision for you to go in without back-up was logical." The human half of Spock was more than amused, but his Vulcan half was still demanding answers. He didn't question when James T. Kirk had taken up being logical.

"First Officer Kirk has no right to question the decisions of the captain. In addition, my assumption is that he was acting headstrong once more and neglected to elect a First Officer should both of us perish."

"He told us to tell Communications Officer Uhura to decide as he hadn't been on-board long enough to make a decision. He said he trusted her enough to make an informed decision." Spock was not a man that was impressed easily, and he still wasn't—where was Kirk? The planet's destruction point was a mere two minutes away and he had not called in.

"Where was he when you last communicated?" Spock leaned over, checking the panels.

"He said he was within view of you; I had his position locked and he couldn't have been two feet behind you."

"I fail to see where the problem could have occurred." If he had been behind Spock, he couldn't have fallen with his mother.

"He moved at the same time your mother did, Captain. I vas unable to track a target moving as fast as he vas and beam him aboard. Captain, you don't think…?" Logically, Spock knew there had probably been another mishap and that the First Officer had met the same fate as his mother. However, he also logically knew that saying so would not improve the morale of the crew, already low from immediate events.

"What I think is…"

"Kirk to _Enterprise,_ someone respond!"

"Kirk, man, you have one and a half minutes left. Where are you?"

"Hanging." Crumbling and explosions messed with the transmission.

"This is no time to use sarcasm, Kirk."

"Well aware, Sulu. I am currently hanging from a ledge right now, and I would appreciate someone beaming up myself and the person I am hanging on to."

"You jumped from beam-up to save one Vulcan. Sir, you are the First Officer of a ship that could have potentially been left without leadership, you idiot!" The entire time Sulu was yelling, Chekov was targeting Kirk and the other. This time, he was much quicker; he would not risk losing another because he was too slow to target.

Captain Spock, on the other hand, was cursing himself for being so cowardly. Perhaps, if he had jumped as Kirk had so impulsively done, his mother would not have died. Kirk sacrificed himself to save one of Spock's own, and he could not even do so for his mother.

He left the transport room before Kirk could materialize, and made his way purposefully to the bridge. Nero would not get away with the destruction of his home planet, and the subsequent loss of his mother. Logically, he knew he was in all likelihood emotionally compromised, but it was hardly going to impair his ability as a captain; they were after the madman regardless, so what would speeding the procedure along do?

He hardly realized when his human half finally let itself out over the Vulcan part of him; logic no longer ruled his heart, and the destruction of his home planet let something emerge he had suppressed for so long—emotion.

"Spock!" The Vulcan turned around to find Uhura following him. They entered the elevator together, and Uhura stopped it before they could reach the bridge, turning to kiss him firmly on the mouth. It was hardly what he wanted at the moment.

"Tell me what you need," she whispered, trying to be supportive. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to respond to her advances. She had been a shoulder to—not cry on, but—talk to, but he could not be the lover she wanted him to be. She simply could not read his emotions and respond to them the way he needed her to. He leaned over to push the start button, and the elevator let out at the bridge.

"I need everyone to continue performing admirably," he muttered, before turning away from her and leaving her standing, confused and defeated.

And had the irrational emotion not been overruling him, he might have realized there was a rather short list of possibilities as to whom Kirk could have saved. In fact, the list was limited to just one name. But, of course, the emotion hope was not one he was accustomed to.

Logically, he knew there was no way she could survive, and the moment that that logic had taken hold, anger had replaced any voice of reason.

It was that anger that would hurt him only minutes later.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Oh, shit!" Jim fell to the ground, clutching his right arm. On the fall, he had managed to hook his hand onto a ledge, grasping the woman's hands in his left. Though he had only been hanging for a minute, the gash from his trip, covered in grime, sweat, and dust was leaking blood at an alarming rate, and he was grateful he had not fainted from blood loss before being beamed-up.

Sucking up the pain, at least for ten minutes, he turned to the Vulcan woman he had jumped to save.

"Are you alright, Miss?" The woman, to his surprise was in tears. Weren't Vulcans unable to show emotions?

She said nothing, simply clinging to the hand that had, moments before, kept her from certain death. The grip, he noticed, was nothing like the three-times-his-own that Spock had claimed Vulcans to have. It was strangely—human.

"Miss?"

"Please," she said, finally choking back her sobs, "call me Amanda. After saving my life, it seems only right, don't you think?" Her tone did not lack the warmth and feeling that made Spock's so cold and calculated, and when her emerald green, fear-filled eyes looked into his, he knew why. At first, Jim questioned why a human would be on Vulcan, until he realized she could have only one purpose there.

And he realized why Spock's hand had reached for her as she fell over the edge.

"Amanda, are you Spock's mother?" She looked at him and nodded, attempting to use her own strength to stand.

"Spock…he must know that I am alive." Jim looked at her and nodded.

"Amanda, as First Officer of this ship, I am requesting that you allow sickbay to check you over. You have just been through a very traumatizing event, and I do not think it would be wise to allow you to go anywhere without the once-over."

"I can tell you've been spending time with Spock; you're beginning to talk like him." She let a laugh out as he gave her an incredulous look; that was hardly a compliment, although coming from the man's mother; it was probably supposed to be considered one.

"I will see to it that Spock knows where you are. I'll try to have him down there as soon as possible."

"Thank you, First Officer." He winked at her.

"Call me Jim. Where is Captain Spock?" Murmured responses indicated the bridge, and moments later, Jim set his course.

When he walked onto the bridge, his welcome was hardly the one he expected.

"First Officer James Tiberius Kirk." Somehow, he knew he was in trouble when his rank and full name were used, but he refused to be berated as though he were talking to his mother. "You have broken rank, endangered the safety and leadership of this ship, and have displayed a chronic and reckless abandonment of any sense of self-preservation." Sputtering, Jim had no way of doing anything other than opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

"Such an issue cannot be left unaddressed if the continuation of this ship's functioning is to be expected at full capacity, and, as such, I am endorsing your immediate dismissal from this ship. You will continue to have the same rank, but not aboard my ship."

"Excuse me? I just saved…"

"One Vulcan. That is all. Many more were lost, and you were unable to save them. You do not seem to understand the meaning of the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few."

"I do not believe in no-win situations, Spock." All thoughts of Amanda and his promise were erased as he fought for his continuation aboard the ship. Spock was trying to get him kicked off the ship because he had tried to help in an illogical way, and it was really beginning to piss him off.

"Mister Sulu, please set a course for Starfleet. We must regroup and plan our next course of attack." Jim would be damned if he would be ignored and dumped like that.

"Spock, by the time we regroup, it will be too late and they will have reached their next target." Spock was clearly ignoring him. "If you say Nero already knows what's going to happen, then the best thing to do is be unpredictable."

"You are assuming the chain of events is the same," Spock countered, clearly getting sick of Jim; how he was able to piss of the stoic Vulcan was beyond the thinking capabilities of everyone present, but he did. "By simply attacking the U.S.S. Kelvin, he has created an entirely new chain of events that has led to this current moment in time."

"An alternate reality." Jim did not miss the slight crease in the eyebrows and curve downward of Spock's lips that told anyone paying attention that he was displeased and slightly annoyed with Uhura's interruption. While she thought she was being clever, Jim realized he was the only one who actually paid attention to Spock and realized his emotions when they were coming through.

That should have disturbed him. It made him proud.

"Exactly," the Vulcan responded.

Jim felt rather woozy, and while Spock continued staring out the glass, he stumbled up the steps and fell into the chair. "So they've time traveled, then?"

"If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, is the answer."

"How poetic." He knew he did not sound amused. Spock simply turned his gaze to Jim who was trying to stay awake and pay attention to the conversation.

"Out of the chair." Jim stood, staggering, but still remained proud, pulling it off as tripping, rather than the blood loss he was certain it was. He really should have visited medical bay first.

"Kirk, why are you still here? Security, please escort Mister Kirk," Jim bristled at the lack of title the Vulcan used, "to a shuttle-pod. We will release him to the closest planet that has a base. Sulu, what is the closest?"

"We will be approaching in approximately five minutes."

"Now, look here, Spock."

"Captain Spock to you, Mister Kirk, and do not attempt to pull a rank you no longer have." Kirk made quick work of the holds on him and proceeded to make his way to Spock. He was pulled back by the guards, though, and spent the next fifteen minutes getting his ass beaten—again.

Until his world went black.

"Spock…Amanda."

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

He knew his…no…_the_ headstrong First Officer had said something as his technique pulled the man into unconsciousness, but he no longer had an interest in what he had to say. As captain of the _Enterprise_, he had done as he felt was logically correct, and in five minutes the ship would be rid of the nuisance for good.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Chekov." The blinking red light on one panel indicated exactly what Spock knew the young man was about to tell him, but he gave him the opportunity regardless.

"First Officer Kirk has been released to the planet Delta Vega, Sir."

"Thank you, Ch—."

_ "Captain Spock, why are you not in sickbay?"_

"Doctor McCoy, I was not aware I was needed. Did your scanners pick something up on me?"

_ "Hasn't Jim been there yet?"_

"First Officer Kirk has been relieved of his duties. His pod was just released."

_ "What?! Spock, you are an ungrateful, wretch of a captain!"_

"Doctor McCoy, I would suggest you remember your place as a senior medical officer and _not_ my superior officer!"

_ "Bullshit, Spock, you are going to listen to me on this! Did you even let Jim say anything when he got up there?"_

"First Officer Kirk said more than enough his entire stay here on the ship. I severely doubt anything he says about anything…"

_ "Like the fact that the woman he saved…"_

"…Was one Vulcan that was successfully saved of the millions that were not." Spock would not be made a fool of; his First Officer had saved one woman, which was more than Spock could say, but there were millions that were lost; a knowledge-base that was forever gone to the universe.

_ "No, you idiotic, hobgoblin Vulcan!" _Spock bristled. _ "That woman was your mother!"_ A silence descended over the bridge as Spock realized just what he had done. Cursing himself in anger he knew his human half had every right to feel, he rushed to the transportation room.

"Ensign, I need you to beam me down to the location of First Officer Kirk's pod."

"I can't do that, Captain. The First Officer pulled rank before he was shipped off."

"What do you mean _pulled rank?_ I am the Captain, and I have the highest rank." The man looked uncomfortable under the Vulcan stare, but he held up strong.

"Apparently, the First Officer knew one rule to being a Captain, and that is that you are not allowed, as Captain, to engage in any sort of transport without a first officer that gives consent. The entire ship knows you shipped off the only First Officer this ship has, and, as you have not properly earned the title of Captain, you are unable to choose an official First Officer."

Spock was aware of this rule, and, unfortunately, he could not simultaneously target himself and beam down.

"So you're telling me that I must choose a First Officer to act until we return to Starfleet and a new Captain and First Officer are chosen?"

"I am sorry, sir. We'll have to make this work without First Officer Kirk."

Once again, his guilt and self-loathing quite perfectly allowed Spock to ignore the fact that he was emotionally compromised. Still, he composed himself enough to attempt to visit Amanda in sickbay.

James T. Kirk would think much more logically and recklessly—a trait only achievable by him—when he returned—and he would return.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

Jim ignored the computer that told him to stay put and climbed out of the hole his pod had put into Delta Vega. _And we were getting along so well, you ass_. Jim growled, sarcastically thinking back to the captain who had just marooned him. He began speaking angrily to a log he no longer possessed. _Don't you dare die, Spock_, he muttered, _because I want to kill you myself._

He wandered for a good ten minutes, talking to himself and trying to ignore the frigid cold, when a roar brought him back to reality—and fear. Suddenly, he realized he was as close to a no-win situation as he was going to get; no weapon and a giant thing that wanted to eat him, coming closer. However high his blood loss at the moment, not running would definitely have resulted in more, so he did the only thing he could. He ran like hell.

He thought it couldn't get worse. Then he cursed himself for bringing bad luck upon himself when an even bigger red thing ate the ice beast chasing him before resuming its prey's task.

Miraculously, on his fall down the cliff, he broke nothing—as far as he could tell anyways—and he ran as fast as he could until he spotted a small cave with an opening he hoped the beast couldn't squeeze through.

He underestimated the size of the opening.

Once he reached the cave, he knew he was doomed. His vision was swimming, he couldn't feel his legs, and the cold was choking him half to death. Already, he could see the light that so many trashy novels wrote about; how cliché. He began feeling warmer and all sound—mainly the beast—began fading out. Sighing, he lay back and prepared to die, praying for it to be quick and painless.

It was moments later that he realized nothing was happening.

"Are you alright, stranger?" A man's voice alerted him to the fact that he was not dead—and he was not alone. However, as he snapped up to keep his eyes on his _company_, he realized he would be having brain issues for the rest of his life after this. He was blacking out, but he pushed through to find out what was going on.

"James T. Kirk." The voice brought Jim back from his haze.

"Excuse me?"

"How did you find me?" The aged Vulcan looked quite happy to see him.

"How do you know me?" He had met one Vulcan in his life, and the man simply hated him.

"I have been and will always be your friend." The features, Vulcan, reminded him of…but that wasn't possible. Although Nero had said they hadn't met, but perhaps he knew this version? Still—

"I'm sorry, I don't know you."

"I am Spock." Somehow, Jim knew it, but he still said it.

"Bullshit." The man—Spock—saw him shiver and set to starting a fire, expressing his joy at seeing his _old friend_ after the day's events, but Jim interrupted.

"I'm sorry, sir, but if you were Spock, you'd know that we're not friends. We hate each other—you marooned me here for mutiny!"

"Mutiny! Then you are not captain of the _Enterprise?_" The ease with which Spock said it would have made Jim laugh if he had enough blood to move, or even think for that matter.

"No. No, you're the captain. Pike was taken hostage." A failure that had not gone unnoticed by any means.

"By Nero." This seemed to disturb Spock of the Future greatly. He decided he needed to find a different name for this guy to avoid his own confusion. Spock Prime, perhaps? Nodding his head, he looked at the Vulcan.

"What do you know?"

Spock Prime (yes that was better) looked him in the eyes.

"We must get you back on that ship. This will be easier."

In mere moments, Prime had his hand to Jim's head and suddenly his thoughts were no longer his own. He saw, heard, and felt images, tasted the memories as more than a century of knowledge and thoughts were stuck alongside his own twenty-one.

As Prime released him from the mind-meld, he screamed and collapsed.

"I apologize. Most Vulcans will not meld without consent, but I had no time to explain or ask. We must get you back on that ship, Jim."

Jim did not bother, as they left the cave to begin the trek to the transport, to tell Prime that he was aware of what a mind-meld was. Instead, he concentrated on the memories he had seen.

_We're actually friends? He was supposed to help me receive a __promotion__ after I tricked his test? Bullshit!_ He continued this way for awhile until finally, the anger started to fade and he stopped ranting, choosing to actually think.

He could understand their friendship, in a way. Had the jerk not kicked him off the ship, he could see how it would already have progressed.

Jim took a great pleasure, after all, in making people think he was stupid only to prove his intelligence moments later when it suited him, whereas Spock was simply logical and intelligent. It was not as though they could not hold an intelligent conversation—if Spock could hold back his biting comments.

Never mind that Jim liked the logical Vulcan.

He tripped in the snow, and though Prime turned back concerned, he waved the man off.

Where had that come from? Less than forty-eight hours and Jim had gone from hating the pointy-eared bastard to liking him? Again…_bullshit!_

_I just love a challenge,_ he thought,_ and Spock is a challenge—nothing more._ He couldn't stand to think of it any other way.

He fell over, clutching his forehead. Whatever Spock had called emotional transference was coming back to him, forcing one-hundred-and-twenty years of memories into his mind—memories that were not his. Soft looks shared on the bridge, inconspicuous brushes of hands—Jim was almost disturbed. Almost.

But if he truly hated Spock, or even disliked him, wouldn't evidence of a life with him make him sick and horrified? It certainly would not leave him curious.

Spock actually seemed to be a half-decent person when he wasn't trying to show superiority, and after a week with Jim, maybe he could acquire a sense of humor. And, if Jim was being _completely_ honest, he enjoyed their verbal fist-fighting—until Spock had kicked him off the ship, anyways. That was still a sore spot apparently.

There was only one way to figure out how he truly felt, and that was to get back on the ship, which Prime was taking care of, confusing a Starfleet officer with futuristic words and ideas. Looking around, he realized that sometime between the cave and his train of thought, they had arrived at the Starfleet location, and Prime was talking to the officer, Scotty, about beaming aboard a ship moving at warp speed.

"Jim." At this point, he was simply going where he was directed on autopilot control, but Prime's voice made him jump out of his random thoughts and turn back to the matter at hand. "You must be Captain of that ship."

"How? Over your dead body?" Prime shrugged.

"Preferably not, but there is a regulation 619. It states that if an officer is emotionally compromised by the mission at hand, he cannot hold that position."

"So I have to," Jim began, confused, "emotionally compromise you—him—you guys?"

"Jim." The tone caused the blonde to look at Prime and, inexplicably, he felt his heart break. "I have just lost my planet. I can tell you; I am emotionally compromised."

Now all he had to do was play on that. Did he have it in him to do so? Not without hating himself.

He was starting to realize that although no-win situations were not something he believed in, the winning situations always had consequences.

Hopefully, Spock could forgive him this time.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

It didn't take long for Spock to forget the fact that he had sent the First Officer off. When he saw his mother, alive and well in a sick bay bed with only a few scratches, his human half ruled his body with chest-constricting spasms of relief. He had been one First Officer short of losing her; the feelings of guilt came back when he remembered he had marooned the reason his mother was alive.

"Mother." Amanda looked at her son and there were evident tears of joy welling in her eyes.

"Spock! You're safe!" She rose from the bed and walked to him, touching his face to make sure it really was her son standing across from her. "Jim told you I was here, then?"

"Not precisely, Mother." She shrugged.

"I'm sure he had other things to worry about. What matters is you are here, and alive. I've missed you, Spock." She put her hands on his cheeks and looked at him from all angles. He had not changed in the three years since he turned down the offer to join the Vulcan Science Academy, but she seemed to find a million changes.

"Mother." He took her hands in his own and removed them. His tone got her attention; she knew her son well enough to know his emotions when they came through.

"Spock, what happened?" A few more moments passed. "What did you do? You feel guilty about something, my son."

"First Officer Kirk…"

"What happened to Jim, Spock?" Spock's chest constricted; his mother had developed an attachment to the First Officer in the short time when she had been rescued, which made this harder.

"He is no longer with us on the ship," Spock said in a stoic voice. "His shuttle has landed safely on Delta Vega."

"For what reason was he marooned?"

"Attempted mutiny." That was the reason he was going with, and it had not been the correct one in Amanda's eyes.

"Attempted mutiny? Spock, for someone who claims to be logical, you are having a problem discerning emotions from reason!"

"Mother!" That his human mother was berating him on his logic was a laughable fact, but he knew better than to speak out against her. Human or not, a mother was to be respected in the Vulcan culture.

"I was important to you, Spock. That is why he jumped to save me. _You_ are important to him, and that is why he followed you in the first place. You marooned him?"

"He questioned my authority by disobeying a direct order; that is attempted mutiny, or the start of it at any rate. Jim has been after the captain position at my expense since two days ago during his Captain test—the Kobiyashi Maru—and it was Jim's attempt to satisfy his need to rebel." That had sounded extremely familiar.

He knew, logically, that his argument was falling apart, piece by piece, but he had nothing on to hold on to before the guilt consumed him. He was already well aware that his choices had not been particularly bright, but they were logical; as a Vulcan, half or not, all his decisions were.

"Jim?" Amanda raised one eyebrow with that secret smile that only a mother can use.

"First Officer Kirk," he corrected.

"Spock," she said softly, looking at him sadly. "Do you really refuse to see it?" _Until the end of my days,_ he responded internally.

What he said instead was, "There is nothing to see. There is no logical proof to suggest the First Officer is any way other than my portrayal." She laughed.

"But you want there to be." The simple way she said it threw him; when had she acquired this sarcastic wit? Growing up, he had only witnessed her well-honed manners that came from living on Vulcan for so long. "It is a maternal instinct, Spock. Do not question it, for I guarantee it. You are still half human, dear, so use something other than logic—use your heart." He nodded stiffly.

"I will attempt it." Amanda laughed.

"You should trust your mother, Spock," she admonished in a falsely accusatory tone.

"I do." She stared him straight in the eyes and held out her hand to grab his.

"Love, Spock. It is the Vulcan's greatest weakness that they overanalyze without feeling it. They feel they must know everything, and they miss the true meaning." His mother, from entertained to serious in half a moments notice, was imploring him to understand with every part of her being.

"Which is?" Amanda shook her head.

"It is different for everyone, Spock. You must find your own reasons and, in time, you will find it. You will find him." The pronoun threw him for a brief moment, but he collected himself.

"Him?" Another one of those secret smiles.

"You already know, Spock. The one who knows you like no other has, will, or can. Who gets under your skin, but understands you, and hurts himself to help you—you know him, Spock, but you cannot force it or him."

"Mother, how can you be so sure?" There was no logic in her thought process.

"Because you've already told me. You just need to tell yourself." He sighed; the battle had been lost.

"Why him?"

"Sometimes, it is the one we believe is the worst choice that turns out to be the best."

"But we despise one another. I marooned him."

"Love will always return and it will always forgive." He tried to keep the heartbreak from his voice.

"But he cannot love me."

"He saved me for you."

"As his captain," Spock rationalized. Amanda shook her head, returning to the bed to lie down for a rest. She looked at him, smiling, and nodded her head, before dozing off.

"You shall see."

Chekov's voice came over the intercom, telling him they had an intruder. _Was there ever a dull moment_, he reflected.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

Fully drenched and rather amused, Jim walked alongside his new pal Scotty and a few of his old ones—the security guards. He was still trying to figure out how he was going to convince Spock that the man was emotionally compromised. Spock Prime had told him to play on the fact that Vulcan had just been destroyed, but he wasn't completely sure he had the heartlessness to use something so devastating against the man.

Especially now that he knew what Prime knew about their possible more-than friendship?

Jim had made lots of enemies. His shoot-first-ask-questions-later method had gotten him more than one ass-beating, and though he took them with grace and fought back hard, he was well-aware that he was a difficult person to please. He didn't trust easily, and he certainly didn't care for the concept much; trust gave people the ability to hurt you, and Jim had made a reputation off of being indestructible, yet likeable.

But there were those few—his mother, McCoy—whom he did trust with his life, and those were the people he had sworn to protect over all else. He protected his friends with a fiercer passion than he defended himself with, and if any of them had been on the line, Spock would not have been able to get rid of him as easily as he had.

Somehow, protecting himself just wasn't as big of a motivator as defending one of them, and for Spock Prime to tell him that in his time Jim would defend Spock with that same level of devotion—maybe more—was utter madness. Still, Jim had come back. Knowing full well that Spock would more than likely put him in a holding cell in the brig, knowing the man had every intention of pursuing Nero without a plan, knowing he could fail, Jim had come back. Because somewhere along the way, he had come to respect the man.

His trials from being raised as a combination of two races, his desperate attempts to keep a check on an anger than could destroy them all if given the chance, and his logic that still used some of that hidden emotion all made up a strong individual who, under different circumstances, could have been a great captain.

But now, as Jim was led to the bridge where a stoic Captain Spock awaited him, he realized that the emotional compromising of his captain was going to get everyone, the captain included, killed.

And Jim could not let that happen before he had been given the chance to find out if they could be together, much less friends.

"First Officer Kirk, as acting captain, I order you to tell me how you regained access to my ship." Jim smirked.

"Well I'm not telling _Acting Captain Spock_. Been to see your mother yet?" Jim tried his best not to flinch as a flicker of guilt and sadness went through the Vulcan.

"I have, and I thank you for saving her, First Officer." He knew how difficult it had been for him to say that.

"I bet it took a lot to say that, Spock. What's wrong? Emotions getting in the way again?" Jim knew he was going to hate himself after this. Or Spock would. Or both. "Your planet was just destroyed, and you claim to feel nothing."

"Kirk, back away…"

"Then make me. You feel no anger, no pain! You're leading this ship back to Starfleet rather than doing the right thing, and you refuse to show fear, to admit that you're scared! Or do you really feel no fear, Spock? You feel nothing! I mean, it must not even compute for you! You almost lost the woman who gave birth to you, and when you didn't even think she was alive, you were the most stoic being alive! Did you even care?"

With a roar of anger, the Vulcan let his human half slip and Jim felt his face getting bashed in once more. He just seemed to have a love for getting his ass beaten.

He was getting light-headed, and even as he brought his arms up to block the hit the Vulcan had aimed for his head, he knew one thousand visits to sickbay would never be sufficient of McCoy to let him go. He heard, rather than felt, a bone in his left forearm splinter, and when he brought it back up again to defend himself, it was too weak to stop the hit to his neck. He could barely breathe now, and the hand Spock wrapped around his neck didn't help.

The only thing Jim could register with his lack of air was not the pain, or the horrified faces of the onlookers, nor the fact that he had probably doomed the ship because he would not be alive to take over as captain if Spock even did resign. Stupidly, Jim could only focus on the face of the man choking the life out of him.

Despite the fact that the man was trembling with rage, Spock's face retained a perfect and regal composure, as though he was doing nothing more than squeezing the juice from an orange. There was no strain, and the only thing that still gave Jim the ability to even barely breathe was the warm pressure on his neck as a pose to the cold, crippling one Delta Vega's environment had threatened him with only twenty minutes before. The warmth, despite the harsh grip, was comforting, and he felt himself going unconscious. He found himself wishing that he had the willpower to defend himself, but he simply could not find it. Maybe one day, if he survived this, he would realize he should put more effort into defending himself if he wanted to be captain and defend the universe—or his friends—or himself.

But now, all Jim was aware of was a warm tendril of sleep encircling him. He was going to die, but if he had to die, he was disturbingly relieved about who it was to end him. Maybe that should have been his first indicator, but he was a tad too sleepy to think about it that hard.

Apparently, today was not his day.

"Spock!" A sharp, clear tone cut through the haze enveloping Jim, and the pressure on his neck disappeared. Sucking in a lungful of precious air, he began massaging his throat, hoping Spock would at least look at him.

He was not half so lucky.

"Doctor, I have been emotionally compromised. I must regretfully step down from my position as captain. Note the time and date in the ship's log." Spock, without looking at Jim, who was still gasping for air, turned swiftly on his heel and left the bridge.

"Great job, Jim. Now we've got no captain, and no god-damn first officer to replace him." Jim looked up at the irritated tone, and regretfully answered.

"Yeah we do."

"Pike made him First Officer," Sulu explained as Jim took his seat.

"You're kidding." Jim rolled his eyes at his _friend._

"Thanks for the support, Bones."

"I hope you know what you're doing, _Captain_." Jim didn't know who had spoken, but as he gripped the armrests, he looked straight ahead.

"So do I."

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

_Emotionally compromised; how could I not see it?_ Spock was berating himself up and down the hall as he pushed for his quarters. He continued to do so as Kirk gave the order to have battle stations ready within twenty minutes. He was an utter failure as a captain, and he had only been so for less than three days. He had failed his mother, his father, Captain Pike, his crew, and himself—and Kirk—and the urge to bash his own head came repeatedly.

Not ten minutes after nearly admitting to his mother that he was in love with James T. Kirk, he had almost killed him. How could he ever expect Kirk to even look at him after the events on the bridge? How could he ever expect the man to love him?

"Spock!"

"Officer Uhura." She had followed him, and he was getting quite done with it. Logically, she was not even a good choice for him; she was simply there.

"I've told you, Spock, call me Nyota. Are you alright?" He looked at her.

"Officer Uhura," she visibly slumped, but he continued, "you have been a good friend, and an amazing officer onboard this ship. As for our personal relationship, I am afraid I am unable to reciprocate in kind to any advances you have made. I do not want this to impact our friendship, but if it must, then it must."

Nyota looked at him, eyes glistening, but she nodded. It took her a few moments, but she finally looked him in the eyes, strong and proud.

"I'm glad you told me now before my hopes were too high. I'll always be there for you, Spock." She gave him a hug, an action more for her benefit than for his own, but he allowed it as repayment for everything she had done for him.

"Goodbye, Uhura."

"What are you doing? You have no right to be here! You should be on the bridge!" Spock knew, just from the inexplicable drop in temperature in the room, who Uhura was talking to.

"Uhura, I hate to pull rank here, but I am ordering you to vacate the floor." She sputtered, but Spock continued walking, ignoring the fact that his new commander would catch up with him regardless.

"Spock!" He ignored the man. It would not be wise to let go of his anger in such a contained area with no one around to stop him. For Kirk to follow him was illogical and, quite frankly, a completely normal move for him to make. Spock almost had to smile. Almost.

"Spock, as your commanding officer, I order you to turn around!" Spock almost heard the crack in his voice. Did the commander really not like the power he had just fought to receive?

Still, the Vulcan did as ordered. He was nothing if not obedient. He should have never turned around.

Kirk had not changed out of his all black attire, nor had he attempted to clean up or visit sickbay. There were dirt smudges across his face, blood caked to the scratches on his face, and his hair, normally golden blonde, was messy and darkened with dirt, sweat, and blood.

The black turtleneck, while able to hide most of the injuries, was not capable in hiding them all, and Spock felt sickened realizing that while he had only inflicted the least of the two—the blood spatter and odd formation of skin on his left forearm, indicating a break or splintering of bone—the man in front of him had acquired the gash that Spock had not bothered to have checked, the one that had probably lost Kirk too much blood to even be functioning right now, saving Spock's mother.

Even if the man had pulled rank or made him look like an idiot in front of his crew, Spock owed his life to his new commander, and he had betrayed every bit of trust, no matter how small, that Kirk had placed in him because of his emotional compromising.

But his suppressed heart lurched when he took one look into the warm, slightly-watery crystal blue eyes. They were not cold and unfeeling, drenched with anger and hatred for a man that had left him for dead, and he had left him for dead, but a tendril of concern was laced through those blue depths. Concern for him, and that was perhaps the most bewildering emotion Spock had ever encountered. To most, it would be considered insult to injury to have the man who had just stolen the captain rank from underneath his feet coming after him.

To Spock, it made him feel…cared for. And despite his knowledge that it was not a Vulcan response, he could not bring any part of him to care with James T. Kirk standing there, questioning his well-being with his eyes alone.

"Spock, you have to know I did what I did not because I wanted to, nor do I think it was the best way to do it." Kirk looked strong, but breakable—vulnerable—and Spock hated it.

"Then why, Commander?" He did not miss the shudder at the name.

"I want to tell you so much," he said, and Spock could hear the truth in the statement.

"But you cannot." In less than two seconds, Spock found himself looking down at his commanding officer from a mere six inches away. The captain had invaded his personal space, and he could neither back up nor say anything about it, but, curiously enough, he found that he did not want to. This feeling, a human one, that bubbled up inside him was foreign. It caused his blood to run hot, much like anger, but he did not feel the need to strike the—_beautiful_, his mind supplied—man. No, he felt…

"I…" Kirk cocked his head, asking an unspoken question that Spock did not have the answer to. Apparently, his eyes said it all, though, because one simple glance told his captain all he needed to know.

"Spock, will you do me one favor?"

"I am indebted to you for life, Commander. You saved my mother, and I owe you for my inaccurate accusation that landed you on a foreign planet." Bemused, his captain shook his head.

"Alright, you owe me for two things, so give me these two favors, and we'll call it even."

"Nothing, Commander, will ever make up for what I have done to you or what you have done for me. I would complete one hundred tasks if you asked, not because you are my commanding officer, but because I am indebted to you."

"Fine, three, but that's it!" Kirk was starting to look highly amused.

"We shall see, but what are these three?"

"One is that you stop bringing up the fact that you owe me. After this, we're as even as I'm ever going to force you to be." Spock wanted to interrupt, but the finger that Kirk held up indicating his first point turned towards his to tell him to be silent, so he was.

"Two, you will call me Jim when we are off duty, or at the very least Kirk. I hate being called First Officer, Captain, Commander, or any of that when I'm not actually doing something. Like now, for instance."

"Very well…Jim." The informal name felt foreign, but…right. "What is this third favor?"

"I am very curious about something, and you know my tendency to shoot first and ask later."

"What is it, Co—Jim?"

"Kiss me." Spock choked on his air. "Very well, I guess this is very much the same no matter which way we do this." Before he could question what his commanding officer could mean by such a statement, he found himself pinned by the shoulders, though not really, considering he was three times stronger than his counterpart, to the wall behind them.

The captain's—Jim's lips covered his own and he felt his eyes flutter shut uncontrollably. He remembered thinking how soft the man's lips were on his own, remembered questioning the sanity of his commanding officer, questioning the morality of kissing his superior, much less his captain, but then he remembered not caring as he let his hands rise from holding the wall to gripping Jim's hips tightly to him.

The other man moaned into his mouth at the feeling, and Spock was momentarily brought back to his logical senses until Jim responded in kind, one hand clinging to his shoulder, the other playing with his hair and ear, a sensitive spot on the Vulcan body, and extremely so for one with half-human pleasure receptors like Spock. He was incredibly surprised to find himself responding much in the same way Jim had when he had held him.

Jim, still unable to fully breathe from the bridge episode, had to pull his head away and rest it against Spock's chin. His breathing was increasing, despite his attempts to calm it, and Spock knew, no matter how much he would like to simply stay, something was wrong.

"Jim, what is wrong?"

"Too…much…adrenaline. Not enough…blood." Spock knew the commander was trying to make a joke, but it fell flat, just like he almost did had Spock not caught him.

"Jim, please stay with me." The blonde did not respond, and Spock did something for the very first time in his Vulcan life.

He swore.

And then he ran like hell itself was after him with Jim in his arms.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

The last thing he could remember was kissing Spock; it had been brilliant, to say the least. And when he reluctantly pulled away, he suddenly felt the pain everywhere, like the adrenaline had run from his body, leaving only pain. The pain from his injured forearm, the gash in his right arm, every injury on his face, and the recent more-than-likely bruising on his hips, which didn't hurt as much as the others, but certainly didn't help.

And then there was darkness—blissful, yet intimidating. Like Spock.

He wasn't sure when he had developed more than respectful or friendly feelings for the man, or when he had been sure that he liked him as more than a friend. Oddly enough, as his subconscious drifted in nothingness, he figured it had probably happened on the bridge. Still, although he was unconscious, it was only after thoroughly kissing Spock, hopefully senseless, because that was what it had rendered him.

After all, Jim only fell for…well, he had never really fallen for anyone. He had always wanted someone strong, not necessarily physically, but certainly mentally, someone who made him think and kept him on his toes. Of course, physical beauty was not required, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing either.

And Spock certainly had a perfect beauty. He was tall, graceful, and despite the haircut he had often internally mocked, his features were perfectly accentuated to his Vulcan heritage. And those eyes that had many times bore hatred, somehow so expressive, could have stopped a villain like Nero in his tracks if he had a heart.

As for keeping him on his toes—not many people would have sent him to the middle of nowhere, after all. Perhaps that had been the true reason for falling in love if that was what the feeling was. Still, the constant challenge that the man provided certainly kept him on his toes, as no one could doubt.

Besides, he now knew the Vulcan—a version of him anyways—inside and out because of the forced mind-meld, and, oddly enough, he still believed he did not know anything about Spock, which excited him further.

Now if only he could wake the hell up so he could tell the Vulcan he thought he was in…love?

He heard faint muttering around him, some of it belonging to Bones, but most coming from a voice he never thought would be able to utter a kind word to him without some kind of blackmail being held over his head.

_Spock_.

The silencing of everyone around him alerted Jim to the fact that he had spoken that name aloud, but a quiet murmuring as Bones began checking him over once more accompanied the many differently-pitched beeps checking his vitals. But he was concerned with any of that.

A warm, firm hand had encased his, and as far as he could tell, it had been that way for awhile.

"Damn Jim, can you just make my job easy once?" He turned his head towards the sound of the doctor's voice and rasped an answer.

"I'm sorry, Bones. How long have I been here and what's the damage?"

"You mean besides the infections from the dirt on Vulcan that got in your wounds from that mission, the multiple cuts that have been cut into those cuts that have nearly scratched your skull, the twelve inch gash down your right upper arm, or the splintered bones in your left forearm, not to mention the fact that your blood levels are twenty percent below normal, and you can only live down to twenty-five? You've been here all of a minute, though. Once we got the blood back in you, you woke right up." The grip on his hand tightened, and he reciprocated in kind.

"I just wanted to give you something to do," Jim joked, coughing.

"Ah, yes, and the windpipe. You idiot; regardless of what you felt you had to do, picking a fight with someone who could suffocate you was not smart in your condition."

"Shoot first…" Jim broke off, coughing harder.

"Ask later, I know," Bones sighed.

"Can you clear me for duty?" Bones and Spock looked at him like he was insane. "Damn you, Bones, you know I cannot be left off duty. I need to be on the bridge in five minutes to go after whatever bullshit plan we're going through with!" He didn't see Spock's contained smile.

"Very well, you're cleared. And I would get up there soon." Jim was already on his feet, Spock in tow.

"Captain, I have figured it out!" The seventeen-year-old Russian ran up to him and began a full-scale launch about his plan. Although he did not know what was going on, Spock seemed to gather it.

"The logic is sound," the Vulcan claimed in a stoic voice. "And I will board Nero's ship. Romulan and Vulcan are close enough where I should be able to access the ship easily, and as my mother was half human, Earth is the only home I have left." Jim looked shocked to him; he would have to make the Vulcan understand, when this was all over, that he would always have a home—with Jim.

Not for the first time that day, James Tiberius Kirk had difficulty not falling over with that thought. Did he like Spock enough to actually say that? Hell, that kind of thought implied love, didn't it? Did he love the Vulcan?

"I can't let you do that, Spock." Finally, Jim found his voice. The Vulcan looked to him, one delicate eyebrow arched.

"I'm coming with you."

"I would cite regulation," as Jim had already done, the blonde thought, smirking, "but I know you would simply ignore it."

"See," Jim smiled softly, touching the man gently on the arm, "we are getting to know each other."

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

That small touch that Jim had given him on the bridge had somehow given him all the strength he would need.

"Jim." Maybe not every strength, he reasoned. "Jim, I worry that I am still emotionally compromised. While I am no longer Captain, this could affect you and the mission."

"Spock." Jim turned to him outside the room where Mister Scott was waiting to beam them down. "I have every faith in you."

"I am angry. I get…irrational when I am angry."

"Most people do," he said, cupping the man's face in his hand. "Direct the anger. Do not bottle it up; Vulcan, human, or otherwise, you must find something constructive to do with that anger, and right now, I need you to focus it on kicking the shit out of the people on that ship so that we can come back here, both alive and safe, and figure out what this thing is between us." By the end, Jim had gotten as close to him as they could be without their lips touching, though Jim remedied that rather quickly.

"Jim," Spock murmured, pushing the commander away. "As much as I would like to continue this, you need to remain focused, as do I, and we are running out of time."

"Right. Yeah, let's…go?" Jim was still glassy-eyed over the kiss, and Spock actually released a laugh at the look of pure enjoyment on his captain's face.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"When we get back, you need to laugh more often." Spock cocked his head to the side, curious for an explanation and the use of _when_ rather than _if_, but on receiving none, they stepped through the doors, past Scotty, and onto the platform. There was some mumbling about beaming them into the cargo bay, and then Jim's voice gave the order.

It didn't take long for the first shot to be fired. The cargo bay, it seemed, was not empty.

Back-to-back, he and Jim fought their way through the small guard; they were easy to disable, as the Romulans had been off guard. Spock heard the alarm go out to alert the rest of the ship to their presence—they would not have the advantage of surprise again.

Wary of firing off too many shots, should his gun have to recharge itself when he really needed it, Spock pulled his captain aside from a blast to hide them both behind a stack of crates. A charge of Romulans ran past them, calling commands and completely missing them.

From behind him, he heard the captain tell him to go ahead, and that he had his back. Creeping forward, he prepared for a quick meld to get him the information. He was not worried when he heard a distant blast fired.

His captain had his back, and even aboard the enemy ship, Spock could not remember ever feeling safer.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Go, I'll cover you." Jim surveyed the scene for any movement.

"Are you certain?" Spock's voice behind him almost distracted him…almost.

"Yeah, I've got it." He would protect Spock no matter what it took. He sent a blast at a Romulan trying to sneak from behind and moved in closer. As he surveyed all angles, he took in Spock's composure.

He was calm and peaceful despite their surroundings as he took the necessary information from the henchman. Jim reflected that he almost looked like he was sleeping. Still, time was short.

"Did you find it? The black hole device?" Spock's eyes flew open.

"And Captain Pike." An added bonus. He followed the Vulcan through numerous twists and turns until they reached a clean, white Starfleet vessel that heavily contrasted with its dark environment. A huge ball of red matter sat in the center.

_Why did Prime need all this for one Supernova? He only needed __one__ drop._ Jim had the suspicion that Prime had not been honest with him, but he ignored it for the time.

"Voice recognition activated. Welcome back Ambassador Spock." Spock's eyes found his.

"Wow. That was weird." Jim knew he sounded incredibly guilty, but he ignored the looks as the Vulcan asked for the manufacturing origin—2387.

"Captain, you have not been entirely truthful with me." _Of course_, Jim lamented,_ but I can't._ He attempted to change the subject instead.

"Can you fly this thing?" The look in his eyes told Jim he understood it was not information that could be freely given.

"Something tells me I already have." Jim smiled; it was barely there, but the hidden sarcastic undertone was easily detected—for him, anyways. Still, Jim knew the Vulcan never would have dropped the topic so quickly if they had not been in the situation they were. He also knew that meant Spock would bring it up again.

"Jim." The blonde turned to look at him. "The statistical likelihood…" Of course, Spock was getting logical on him.

"Spock—it'll work." _It has to_, he added to himself. But the Vulcan would not leave it, and Jim felt his own resolve waver. Didn't Spock realize he wanted to stay with him, to not leave his side.

His father was captain for twelve minutes and saved eight hundred lives. He had been captain for sixty, and he was trying to save however many people lived on Earth, but only one mattered; Spock.

"Spock." He kept his voice as strong as possible, but it wavered. "If you have no hope for it to work, it won't. It will work," he emphasized. He could tell the last statement had told Spock, in itself that Jim did not know what was going to happen.

Then, completely out of character, in a show of more emotion than Jim had seen, Spock took his chin gently and delivered a kiss that made Jim feel weaker than he already was. It saddened him, because it felt like Spock was saying goodbye, but at the same time, he was too deep to care, submerged in a comment far from captain duties and Romulans.

Moments too soon later, they separated, and Jim laid his forehead to Spock's chin, eyes closed, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"Good luck," he murmured, clinging to the only familiar thing he knew.

"I do not believe in luck." The logical Vulcan was taking over, and Jim chuckled, backing away to leave before his resolve faltered.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." If he looked back, he knew he wouldn't leave.

"Good luck, Jim." He smiled. He wouldn't need luck; he had Spock. And a gun. Guns helped.

All he had to do was find Pike without getting caught. It was too much to hope for.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Wow. That was weird." Spock raised an eyebrow at the captain's nonchalant tone. It did not take a logical being with as much intelligence as he had to know James T. Kirk was a terrible liar, or that he was hiding something.

The ship had addressed him as an Ambassador, but he had no desire to be any such thing unless this ship was from the future, which, though improbable, was as real as everything else.

"Computer, what is your manufacturing origin?"

"Star-date 2387." He turned around and followed Jim to the front.

"Captain." Jim ignored him. "You have not been entirely truthful with me."

"Can you fly this thing?" The blue eyes implored him to answer and trust him, so Spock relinquished—an action he was confusedly becoming more accustomed to regarding Jim.

"Something tells me I already have." Jim smiled at him, but said nothing and turned to leave to find Nero.

"Jim, the statistical likelihood of our successfully completing the mission is less than four percent…"

"Spock, it'll work." Jim sounded so incredibly positive in the face of likely failure. Ninety-six was not a possibility; it was a certainty.

"In the event that I do not return, I would like to…" Spock could see the captain was not pleased with his line of thinking.

"Spock, if you have no hope for it to work, it won't. It will work." The force with which Jim professed his belief shocked Spock into understanding. It wasn't certainty; it was hope in Jim's voice. It was that hope and spark that made Spock believe maybe they had a chance. Four percent wasn't necessarily zero. Still…

Spock crossed the floor in three easy steps and held Jim's chin gently before kissing him softly. Mere moments, shorter than both would have liked, they separated.

"Good luck," Jim whispered, his eyes still shut.

"I do not believe in luck," Spock muttered. Chuckling, Jim stood back.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." He made to leave, but Spock couldn't help what he said next.

"Good luck, Jim." He did not miss the smile that met his words. _Be safe,_ he added to the empty shuttle. Shaking his head, he let a secret smile emerge, as if Jim knew the word at all.

Now, if he could only figure out how to fly the futuristic machine.

"Computer, assist." Maybe he could cheat just a little…

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

Jim _really_ seemed to love getting beaten up. Of course, Nero was about as strong as Spock, so his chances of coming out on top of this were slim to none, barring a miracle. Maybe if he'd been smart enough to look around for more henchmen before telling the madman to cease and desist, he wouldn't have been caught unaware and blindsided, but that was neither here nor now.

Now, Jim was listening to a madman rant about how he had deprived Jim's father and himself of a good life and how he was going to end Jim's—the classic villain rant. If he wasn't on the edge of blacking out—again—he might have been brave enough to roll his eyes.

As it was, he still managed to smile when he heard a voice over the intercom.

"Captain Nero, the Vulcan ship is gone. The drill is destroyed." Nero quivered in rage.

"Spock! SPOCK!" The Romulan jumped down from the high platform to hail Spock, giving Jim time to regain a little bit of strength before trying again. He needed to find a gun.

Struggling to sit up, he managed to stand before the wind was knocked out of him by Nero's cold voice.

"I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance. Take him out!"

"Sir, if you ignite the red matter…"

"_I want Spock dead now!"_ Nero was willing to fire on Spock, on the black-hole device, for his revenge; it had not been something they planned for, but Spock had to have been expecting it.

"He's gone to warp, sir."

"Follow him!" Jim felt the tugging sensation as the _Narada_ jumped into warp while he was in mid-air, attempting to imitate the Romulan leader's stunt. He fell a little short, wincing as the side of the platform collided painfully with his chest; hopefully, nothing more had been damaged, or Bones would wring his neck.

Fortunately, regardless of the horrible jump, he managed to climb aboard the platform. Unfortunately, Nero's henchman was waiting for him to regain an upright position so it would be easier to grab him around the neck.

He had a bad habit of not looking before leaping—maybe there was some logic to the argument that it needed to stop. Even as he dangled over the edge, he laughed at the thought.

"Your species is weak," the Romulan smirked. _Bastard_.

"Frckuh…ngh." Well, fuck you had not come out as well as he would have liked. Jim had all but given up when a glint of metal caught his eye from the man's belt.

"You can't even speak." The man was mocking him. Jim once more muttered something unintelligible. "What?" He looked the man straight in the eyes and smirked back.

"I got your gun." He hooked his finger into the trigger and squeezed, grappling for the edge of the platform before he could fall over the edge with the dead First Officer. Maybe he couldn't speak, but that man couldn't breathe—who was weaker now?

Listening to the conversation over the hailing network, Jim realized he needed to find Pike fast if he planned on making it out before Spock could crash the ship with him still in it. The winding cargo maze didn't help, but he eventually found an unconscious—hopefully not dead—Captain Pike strapped to a table.

"Sir?" Weary eyes fluttered open, obviously not prepared for a non-Romulan ship member.

"Kirk, what are you doing here?" Jim smiled, relieved the man was alive.

"Just following orders, sir." He began unlocking the restraints, praising his good luck at finding the man alive and awake. He jumped at the sound of a shot, but saw the phaser from his belt in the captain's hand, aimed at a fallen Romulan. Jim nodded at him, finishing up and calling into Scotty to beam them up.

Praying Scotty would come through on his promise to beam three targets from two locations, he grasped Pike and waited for the tingle that told him he was beaming up.

It was almost over.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

The drill was destroyed, and though the Romulan ship's captain, Nero, had voiced his displeasure over this development, Spock ignored him, stating he was retaking command over the illegally taken Starfleet vessel.

Collision course set, he held firm and acknowledged the computer as she told him he was going to impact. And although it was not a commonly used method for Vulcan's, Spock prayed that Sulu came through and got the ship in to get him out.

There was nothing he could do as the Romulan ship fired everything they had at them—the ship was not equipped with proper defenses—but when he heard, rather than saw, the _Enterprise_ appear, he felt relief. The plan had a much higher chance of success—50%, which was higher than four at any rate.

That last fifty relied on Mister Scott's ability to beam three targets from two locations, one of which was moving fast towards impact. He would have been beamed in at any time, but the pad would need time, at least thirty seconds to reenergize, and they would not take the risk of Pike and Jim not getting out—the two captains were far more important than one no-longer First Officer.

"Kirk to _Enterprise_, beam us up!" Spock heard his captain's voice over his communicator and tapped the button on the side, letting the ship know he was ready as well. Hopefully—Spock scoffed at his use of such a word—this would work.

Ready with only ten second to impact. He felt the tell-tale tingle of the transporter beam surround him and couldn't help the relieved smile that graced his face. It was hidden by the time he was beamed to the platform pad.

"I've never beamed three targets from two locations onto one platform before!" Jim's friend, Mister Scott, was looking for praise, but Spock was too preoccupied with looking to his right and ensuring Jim's safety to worry about it. He saw his captain—captains—leaning heavily on one another until Doctor McCoy relieved the acting captain of his burden. Spock was concerned—Jim could drop dead at any moment, but the man simply refused to stop. He was a strong leader, Spock reflected as he followed him out of the room, but still incredibly stupid.

Following the captain, he eventually found himself on the bridge, but all he could do was watch Jim, standing close in case he should pass out. He was concerned with only one thing—Jim—until the captain began offering assistance to the enemy.

"Captain," he muttered, turning his back to the screen, "what are you doing?" His commander joined him, leaning in close. Underneath the smell of blood and grime, Spock could smell a scent distinctly Jim's, but he focused on the words rather than the smell.

"It's logic, Spock. I thought you liked that." Spock gave an expression similar to a grimace and shook his head.

"Not really. Not this time." _It doesn't suit you_, Spock mentally added. Luckily, the Romulans chose the death of his planet a thousand times over or some nonsense, which Jim was more than happy to oblige him with.

As the captain ordered the destruction of the ship, Spock leaned in from his position next to the captain's chair—a cadet had taken his place at the panel already.

"Captain, we need to get out. The red matter is going to create a black hole in only moments."

"We have to make sure if both our ships are pulled through, they do not survive to start this over again. What if we are pulled further back and he destroys both of us before we can do anything to stop him?" Though the captain's logic was sound, Spock simply wanted Jim and the crew to be safe; Romulans be damned.

Logically and mathematically, Spock knew they could not make it. Still, as Jim and Scotty yelled about the latter's theory back and forth, Spock looked at the strong man beside him and smiled—he believed in his captain.

The hull began to crack, and Spock listened to Jim yell to try something else. There was a silence over the intercom as the hull cracked further, and then…

"DO IT DO IT DO IT!"

A shockwave propelled them forward, scaring the crap out of him, and his hand gripped the captain's right shoulder, as if to make sure he was still there. The hand Jim placed over his own reassured him—his body's natural response to the physical contact was ignored—and he looked at his captain.

"We'll make it," Jim mouthed. Though Spock simply nodded, he joined his commander in staring out the front.

"We have to," Spock muttered.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

It was a stupid move he would later blame on blood loss. They should have just shot and left; shoot-first and ask-later. The Romulan ship was separate from the planet after all, and they would not be avenged, nor would this ship agree to peace, but Jim was nothing if not hopeful.

"You need assistance, which we are willing to provide."

"Captain." The clipped tone drew his attention from Nero who was glaring at him. "What are you doing?" Spock was facing him, attempting to keep the villain from hearing anything. Jim was overwhelmed by how close they were, but he pushed the thought and turned around as well, leaning in as close as possible without arousing suspicion.

"Offer peace to try and stop the fighting. It may be the only way to achieve peace with the Romulans. It's logic, Spock." He grinned. "I thought you liked that."

To his surprise, Spock responded with a shake of the head.

"No, not really. Not this time." Jim was saved from answering by Nero declining in a less-than-friendly manner any help at all. The captain smiled.

"You've got it." He ordered firing on the ship and muttered for Sulu to prepare the warp speed.

"Jim." He shuddered pleasantly at his name. "We need to get out. That red matter is creating a black hole."

He knew that, and he was cursing himself for not simply blowing the ship to hell, and he knew, even as he explained it, that Spock knew why they were blasting the shit of the Romulan ship. Still, he was worried, would they escape the hole themselves?

Scotty paged him and started speaking technical jargon until Jim was fed up.

"Will it work, Scotty?"

"I make no promised, captain," came the shouted reply. Jim stared out the glass, preparing himself, but as the hull cracked further, he knew he had no choice.

"DO IT DO IT DO IT!" Moments later, a blue-and-white shockwave blasted the ship forward.

Pain laced up his right arm as Spock's Vulcan grip held his shoulder, but rather than grimacing, he smiled softly and covered the hand with his own.

For once, Spock looked scared, but when he met Jim's eyes, it melted into a trust and loyalty—and something else—that made the captain's heart swell. _I'm getting so fucking sentimental_.

"We'll make it," he mouthed, confident, as the shockwave carried them out.

As the ship slowed and drifted, Jim wondered if Spock had been forced through the Kobiyashi Maru program—a random thought. But as he saw the still present fear in Spock's eyes, he realized he had not needed the Vulcan's test to make him a good captain.

He had simply needed the Vulcan.

"Mister Sulu, take us home." The young pilot looked at his exhausted captain, and nodded, preparing the ship to take them back to Starfleet. "Mister Spock, please help me down to sickbay or Bones may kill me himself," he joked. Spock was not amused, but he complied regardless. "Chekov, you have the com." He rose unsteadily, and mentally prepared himself for his long list of injuries. He _had_ to have a record by now.

But the elevator stopped moments after the doors closed; Spock had pressed the stop button.

"Spock?" The Vulcan had turned from him, leaning against the elevator wall. "Spock, talk to me. What's wrong? What…?" He was cut off as Spock turned and wrapped his arms gently around his body, refusing to release.

"You are a reckless, headstrong, self-sacrificing idiot with no regard for your own life." Jim wanted so badly to say something, but Spock's lips covered his, conveying the reason for his seemingly harsh words—Spock had been worried.

Jim simply held him tight, thanking whatever higher power that existed and was watching over them that he and Spock had survived. Now that he knew this kiss they shared would not be their last, he was content to enjoy the moment, pressed up against the Vulcan, and safe in his arms.

Regardless of who was the captain and had command on duty, Spock was the stronger one between the two of them. He had no way of knowing Spock thought the same of him.

Eventually, the Vulcan pulled away and looked into his eyes—Jim saw the human half pulling through and he had to smile. He loved both halves—the logical Vulcan and the emotionally, mostly angry and always loving, human—and he was pleased to know that Spock felt comfortable enough around him to show his true feelings in private. He would never feel comfortable showing emotion, other than anger, in public, but Jim could read him like a book—a very good book, in his opinion.

He laid his head against Spock as he pushed the start button to continue their journey. "Never change," Jim whispered into Spock's chest.

"Nor you," Spock breathed into his dirty blonde hair. The elevator alerted them to the fact that they were on medical bay level.

An hour later, Bones was still ranting.

"Jim, I don't care if you _are_ the captain; you are not leaving this room until we get back to Starfleet command!" Again, he went over the list.

He had a concussion, a bruised windpipe, splintered left forearm, a foot-long gash in his right upper arm and shoulder, internal bleeding—however minor—and a hairline fracture on his leg. Apparently, he had not escaped that fall unscathed.

"Bones, how do you bruise a windpipe? I mean, I know you can crush it, but…"

"Shut up. I take it back; I'll die before I let you out of sick bay. You're officially terminally ill!" Bones was ignoring him, shooting him with sedatives, morphine, disinfectants, and everything else.

"Argh! Stop it!" After finding his mother asleep, Spock watched the exchange with something akin to amusement. Jim's sense of humor was apparently sinking in.

"Argh!" This time, Bones looked worried; he had not injected anything this time, yet Jim was clutching his head.

"Stop it! Get out! I never said yes!" Jim heard Spock calling him, his Spock, but another swam in his vision. Prime's mind-meld was invading—a side-effect Jim had been hoping to avoid.

Years upon years of memories coupled with the different emotions that went with them that did not belong to him crushed his own. He heard his Spock talking to him, trying to pull him through it. He inhaled and his eyes flew open as he felt his own consciousness flooding in and taking back over.

"Spock…please…" He choked on his words, trying to consume air. He hurt, and his emotions ran rampant, but as Spock held his hand, everything except the present disappeared.

"Captain, can you tell me what happened?" Spock was concerned, but Jim knew he could say nothing; Prime had told him so.

He didn't have to worry about an answer, though. Moments later, he had blacked out from exhaustion.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

"Mister Sulu, take us home." Spock heard the words coming from his captain, but nothing registered. He was still vibrating with coiled tension in all his muscles, adrenaline barely pumping through—they had made it.

"Mister Spock." The Vulcan looked down to see the captain swaying in his chair, eyes closed as though the world were spinning around him, which it probably was. "Please help me down to sickbay or bones may kill me himself." The blonde chuckled as though such a comment on his current health were funny, but Spock maintained a neutral facial expression; he could not give off a wave of irritation at a comment meant to lighten the mood. Chekov received the com, and Spock, despite the tingles and feelings racing through him as he allowed contact, held to the captain's elbow, ensuring his position—namely being vertical.

How could the man, barely standing, still be smiling and trying to crack jokes?

Although he had few injuries externally, Spock was a mess inside. In the last seventy-two hours, James T. Kirk had either endangered his own life or had it threatened by an outside force at least once every three hours. He seemed to be a magnet for danger, and he enjoyed it. Never before had the Vulcan met someone with such a blatant disregard for their own life, or someone who was so willing to sacrifice their own life for the good of someone else, never mind a whole planet.

The captain stumbled into the turbo-lift, grasping a bar and Spock's arm for stability, his breathing labored. With his heightened hearing, the Vulcan could hear every strain and stress in the breathing pattern, and his own lungs constricted.

He couldn't take it much longer. The doors shut, and he turned, flipping the switch. The lights flickered and there was a minor jolt, signaling the stop of the lift. Resting his head against the cool control panel, he attempted to regain control over his breathing and, more importantly, his emotions, which were running him ragged.

The captain—Jim—called his name; he was concerned, begging Spock to say something. His voice alone soothed something inside, and his efforts to calm himself were outdone with a few words from Jim. Turning, he wrapped his own arms around Jim, clinging tightly and tucking Jim's head beneath his own.

Lovingly, or as lovingly as a Vulcan could manage, he muttered words of endearment, though he was sure they came out insulting.

"You are a reckless, headstrong, self-sacrificing idiot with no regard for your own life." The tension in Jim's own body told him the captain had not received the endearing undertone, but it didn't matter as his intentions were made clear when he leaned down to capture the human lips, quivering with the promise of a retort that died the minute they met Spock's. The tightly coiled muscles loosened, slowly at first, and then melted as Jim sank against Spock, molding himself to the Vulcan frame and relying on him—physically and mentally, Spock could sense.

By touching, Spock could sense every emotion on the surface of Jim's mind. By kissing, Spock got more force from Jim's hazy mind than if they had been doing a mind meld, though Spock would not know—he had never done a full meld before. If he had to pick anyone to be his _first_, though, it would be Jim.

Still, Spock could feel Jim's emotions, and he felt the corners of his mouth tick up as he realized how much they mirrored his own: relief that the other was alive, amazement that they had made it through to be with one another, hope for a future, but, most importantly, love. Spock had never felt such an emotion before for anyone but his mother, and that had been completely different.

It was stronger than any anger or anything else he had ever felt, including with Uhura.

Another strong emotion that Spock was amazed at, especially considering the past three day's events, was trust. It radiated from the human in such waves, that Spock was sure he had misinterpreted the emotion. He was not, however, surprised to find there was a trust in him that mirrored Jim's—his captain, his friend, his t'hy'la.

Eventually, he had to pull away; he heard Jim's irregular heartbeat and breathing patterns that indicated this was becoming extremely hard for him. Spock was proud of his restraint—being able to resist the look Jim was giving him was the work of something more amazing than Spock considered himself. He suppressed the lust his human half was pushing and looked into Jim's eyes, allowing a real smile to push through.

Jim liked it when Spock acted human around him; that he had not needed to be a telepath to realize.

He wrapped his arms further around the sickbay-bound captain after pushing the button to move the lift. It was hard to ignore, he thought, how perfectly Jim's head tucked underneath his own. Then, the captain whispered something at him, and he smiled.

"Never change." He sighed, such a human reaction, but he did not care.

"Nor you," he breathed, realizing Jim would not be Jim without his reckless ways. It was not something he could ask the man to change. All he could ask was that the man allowed him to stand by his side every step of the way. _T'hy'la_.

The lift indicated they had arrived, and Spock was pushed off to the side, regrettably, as Doctor McCoy began _bitching_ as Jim would have put it. Apparently, the doctor was not pleased that Jim had been allowed to leave and sustain more injuries as well as further aggravating previous ones—injuries he had inflicted or been the cause of.

He forced those thoughts away and concentrated on the amusement in front of him. For the next hour, Spock occupied himself with checking on his mother, seeing if Captain Pike was awake, and listening to Jim complain about being stuck with needles. Doctor McCoy was fond of calling Jim an infant, and Spock had to agree—the captain had a tendency to whine about the smallest things.

"Jim, I don't care if you _are_ the captain; you are not leaving this room until we get back to Starfleet command!" Again, the _Enterprise's_ senior medical officer proceeded to list off every injury the blonde had sustained in the past three days; it was quite impressive, Spock had to admit. He injured nearly every part of his body: head, neck, both arms, torso, and one leg, not to mention the internal issues. To top it off, the blonde was asking the most inane questions about how it was possible to bruise a windpipe.

"Shut up. I take it back; I'll die before I let you out of sick bay. You're officially terminally ill!" Bones was ignoring Jim, shooting him with sedatives, morphine, disinfectants, and everything else while Spock sat to the side.

"Argh! Stop it!" Perhaps he was beginning to pick up on Jim's sense of humor; never before would he have laughed at another's pain, much less a commanding officer.

"Argh!" Doctor McCoy looked worried, and Spock realized why; though Jim had not been pierced with anything, he was screaming, grasping his head. "Stop it! Get out! I never said yes!"

Although he could not discern what the captain was talking about, he tried to snap him out of it. He held the man's hand, calling his name, begging him to come back.

"Captain, whatever it is you are experiencing is not truthful. You must ignore it. Please come back to us; you are in the sickbay. Do not let your mind win. Jim…Jim…JIM!" His efforts proved useless, and he and the doctor looked at each other, praying silently to one another and anyone who was listening for Jim to wake soon and come back to them. A sudden intake of breath alerted them both to the fact that the captain had come back to them. _T'hy'la, be okay._ The blue eyes cleared quickly, and Spock allowed the breath he hadn't known he was holding to escape.

"Spock…please…" Noticing the hand, clenching and unclenching, he slid his own hand into the firm grip and waited as Jim came back to his senses.

"Captain, can you tell me what happened?" Spock was concerned, but something in the way Jim looked away told him that it was the same thing they had talked about in the corridor before they first kissed—he wanted to, but could not. That thought irked Spock more than anything else that had ever provoked an emotional response from him before. Here, in front of him, his t'hy'la was suffering from some ailment that he knew the cause of, and he would not tell Spock. Either he was determined to suffer alone or he believed the ramifications to be heavy enough to keep it to himself, but either way, Spock was useless. It was an feeling he never wanted to feel again.

Jim promptly blacked out not moments after the question, though. Despite Doctor McCoy's reassurance that it was exhaustion, Spock did not move from his side for the remainder of the evening. Sulu had been ordered to take them back to Starfleet, and Spock would stay with his captain until the last minute, which would most likely be when the man was transferred into the sickbay aboard the space station before being transported back down to Earth. Space travel in such a condition was a tricky thing; if it could be avoided, it should be.

He never noticed the senior medical officer sneak up on him, sticking him with a needle.

"You need sleep, too, you green-blooded hobgoblin bastard." Before he could comment on the doctor's _insult_, he had passed out using Jim as a pillow. The sweetness of the moment was disrupted by Jim's increasing snores.

Somehow, that made it even sweeter.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

It had not been the way he envisioned the end of Jim's trial going. Though it had taken three months to get Jim fully healed enough to return to Earth, not to mention the paper work that was still being filed, the honorary captain returned to the Starfleet Academy for the long-awaited conclusion to his trial.

After everything else, a trial determining if he had cheated on the Kobayashi Maru of all things seemed a bit anticlimactic. Apparently, the Board thought so, too, because after dismissing the case—much to Jim and Spock's pleasure—Jim had been promoted to the legitimate captain position. Pike had been promoted to Admiral, and the Starfleet's flagship was suddenly in need of a captain.

Spock had declined, not wishing to relive that position, but he had subtly hinted that there was no reason the honorary captain should lose his position. The Board was willing to accept this, and presented Jim with his Medal of Valor as well as his Captain position during the same meeting as his academic misconduct trial.

Spock was pleased to be a witness to such an important event.

Noticing Jim excuse himself for the bathroom, but escape around a completely different corner, he followed, curious. He was glad he had—Jim was tucked in a corner, tears streaking his face.

"T'hy'la, why are you crying? It is my understanding that most humans would be happy on such an occasion." Indeed, there was no reason for such a display, especially from someone as fun-loving and happy as James.

"It's his fault," Jim muttered. "Even though we beat him, it's still his fault my father isn't here to see me as captain." In that moment, Spock understood.

"He isn't," Spock conceded, leaning down to look Jim in the eyes, "but I am. And I," he paused to kiss Jim lightly, "could not be more proud and more pleased to see such a man become a Captain." Jim nodded, smiling at Spock—his heart fluttered unnaturally.

"I guess I need to get back out there." Spock nodded.

"That would be a wise assumption."

"Thank you, t'hy'la." Spock smiled at the Vulcan word rolling off Jim's lips; it sounded like heaven.

"You are welcome." And as Jim walked away, Spock felt his heart sink. What would his beloved say when he realized Spock would not be on the _Enterprise_, but on a private shuttle to the new Vulcan colony?

He forced himself to step out to the hanger, finding an odd release in being surrounded by science. Ahead, he saw pointed ears and graying hair accompanied by an Elder's robes. Perhaps he could get some advice from his father.

"Father!" The Vulcan stopped, but turned in a way unnatural to Sarek. Then Spock realized why—this was not Sarek.

"I am not our father." Spock was surprised at the light joke in this man's—his—voice. Could this truly be his future?

"You are the one Jim met with on Delta Vega." The Vulcan did not deny. "But why would you send him when you yourself could have explained it to me?"

"You needed each other. I could not deny you of a relationship that I knew would become important. It is a friendship that will one day define you both, Spock." Hearing his name from himself was odd to say the least, but he cleared his head, realizing this may be one of the only times he could speak with himself in such an open way with no others around.

"How did you convince him not to tell me? Is this what he has been keeping from me?" The older Spock smiled.

"He implied that universe-ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise."

"You lied." Spock was quick to simplify, something being around Jim had gotten him into the habit of doing.

"Oh," Spock Prime laughed, feigning offense. "I implied."

"A gamble," Spock recognized.

"An act of faith," the elder corrected. Suddenly, the little details clicked, and one logical question came to the forefront of his own mind.

"You melded with Jim, didn't you." This question seemed to throw his older counterpart. "It is affecting him."

"Emotional transference," the elder answered. "As part human, our melds do not work the right way, and even full Vulcans have experienced problems melding their own thoughts to a human's." Spock was furious, but he contained it as best as possible.

"Why would you risk such a thing?" Prime grinned.

"Because I have already done so in my time; if my Jim could handle it, why could yours not." He wondered if Prime's Jim had gone through a period of inability to handle the emotional transference. Plus, as logical as this was, it burned something inside to know Jim had melded with another already, never mind that it was himself. Paradoxes were highly illogical and, as such, hurt his mind more than he wished for.

He never realized that this Jim also had to deal with an entire timeline of memories that weren't his. He was too concentrated on the matter at hand.

"Still, I do not believe he and I will be melding anytime soon," Spock said wistfully.

"Spock, you can be in two places at once," Prime smiled. "You are able to rebuild the colony and stay by your t'hy'la as well. Maybe, just this once, you could put aside logic and do what feels right?" The logic was unwavering, and Spock allowed a smile of his own to slip through..

He could be pretty logical after all, and the power of two minds as logical as his, combined with another 129 years of experience made for a pretty defensive argument.

"I believe you have a First Officer position to see to," Prime mocked, much to Spock's surprise. "Since my usual farewell would seem oddly self-serving, I shall simply say 'good luck.'" Spock smiled again; the expression was getting far too familiar on his face, but he didn't care.

Soon, he and Jim would be side-by-side.

Him and his t'hy'la.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

He was officially the captain of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. Three years ago, when he had told Pike he would be an officer by now, he had never dreamed to think of himself as captain. He had planned to do that in six or seven.

Still, the feeling of being captain, constantly hearing how his father would have been proud, was bittersweet.

Because Spock—his t'hy'la—wasn't with them.

Of course, Jim understood his duty to the Vulcans. As a now-endangered species, they would need every Vulcan they could get, which meant Spock would consider it logical to put away his own wants and needs for the good of the new colony.

That did not make it any easier, especially as he hadn't seen the man since Jim's mental breakdown.

"Mister S—." The sounds of the turbo-lift opening made him turn—and smile.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" He raised an eyebrow at the playful tone; this was not a common personality.

"Permission granted," he returned the sarcastic yet playful tone.

"As you have yet to select a First Officer, respectfully, I would like to submit my candidacy. If you like," Spock mocked, "I can provide character references." As if, after all they had been through, Jim would need any such thing. Spock was the only one that could keep him sane and make him realize maybe he should rethink his strategy.

He was the only one, despite the difference in rank, that would call Jim out in front of the crew to get him to see reason, and Jim appreciated it.

"It would be my honor, commander." He returned Spock's smile, before standing. "Mister Spock, if I could have a quick word with you in my _office?_" He motioned toward the turbo-lift. "I have one request before we leave." No one suspected anything, except perhaps Uhura, who had had her suspicions since Spock had broken it off with her.

The white doors closed and Jim pressed the stop key, turning to Spock.

"When we were fighting the Romulans, before we beamed aboard, you said Earth was the only home you had left." Spock nodded.

"I did, although I do not see what that has to do with a request you could have for me." Jim looked at his new First Officer, determined not to act extremely unprofessional while on his first official day as captain.

"I wanted you to know, Spock, and I want you to always remember—you'll always have a home, no matter where we are." He stepped close—to hell with professionalism. "You'll always have a home with me." Spock's eyes closed and Jim smiled at the attempt to regain composure.

"Thank you, Jim. Now, I do believe it is time for your first official day as captain. Perhaps, spending it in here with me is not the best way to hide our relationship for the time being. I do not believe announcing our being together is logical this early on."

"Uhura suspects," he said offhandedly, stepping onto the bridge again with a stern look that said "_It was a private conversation, so don't ask, and yes it was important and serious, so don't even think Spock and I love each other_." Well, maybe it didn't exactly say that, but it was close.

Spock's unruffled, unemotional face dissuaded any notion of out-of-the-ordinary happenings in the captain's _office_.

"Take us out, Mister Sulu." And so began five years of the best years of the _Enterprise_—James T. Kirk as Captain, Mister Spock as First Officer, and a crew that would go to the ends of the universe for one another.

Jim smiled; maybe there was something better than being the only genius-level repeat-offender in the Midwest.

**XXXXXSPOCKXJIMXXXXX**

Doctor "Bones" McCoy was not an optimistic man; he would put all his effort into a patient and try whatever he could, but it all relied on the patient in the end, and no amount of optimism or pessimism would change the outcome.

And that was why he was desperately hoping that Jim could maintain his resolution of a mule. The Vulcan mind meld was really only meant to work one way, because Vulcans had spent centuries as a species compartmentalizing their emotions, memories, and thoughts. They could handle taking on added information that didn't belong to them, because it didn't affect them.

Humans were not meant to know every memory from a life that was not theirs.

The signs of a mind-meld performed in reverse were very easily noticed, and Bones was worried for his friend. He was fairly certain the green-blooded hobgoblin that was now the _Enterprise_'s First Officer had not performed a mind meld with Jim, and that meant another had. Regardless, Jim's constant headaches and decreasingly, but still occurring, black-outs were going to cause a problem soon, especially regarding his position as captain.

Bones could only downplay the seriousness of these ailments for so long before something actually happened.

Perhaps Spock could help Jim deal with the memories, or Jim would be able to pull through on his own. Maybe the memories would even fade out by themselves—it was not likely.

One in every three humans that had been on the receiving end of a Vulcan's memories managed to retain sane, normal lives; the other two had not been so lucky.

There were only about thirty total cases on record.

Perhaps it was time for Bones to develop a little bit of optimism.

* * *

_VampireAlchemist:_ As I'm sure you can tell, that last bit is a possible sequel/chapter two. This one took me about two weeks to do, and now I'm forcing myself to work on some of my Harry Potter fanfictions, so there may or may not be another. I'm marking the story as complete, but if you want to see a sequel, put this story on your alert list. If I get enough of those and enough reviews, I'll strongly strongly consider.

_Jim:_ I am Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_...surrender to my whims.

_Spock:_ I apologize for my captain's idiotic sense of humor; he seems to think himself special.

_Jim:_ That's not nice, First Officer Spock. Do I have to lock you in the brig for insubordination.

_Spock:_ That would be inadvisable, Captain. Not only do I have more physcial strength than you, but you would no doubt flounder under the pressure of communicating with the authoress well enough to not get yourself killed in one of her stories because you provoked her.

_Jim:_ No more long words. Kiss me, please!

_VampireAlchemist:_ Not in my drabble, you don't. Take it to another part of the story; I wrote plenty of them. Now, what do we say?

_Spock:_ It would be advisable, reader, for you to review this find piece of literary work.

_Jim:_ If you don't review (and be nice) I'll send my Vulcan after you. Go get 'em, Spocky!

_Spock: _***growl***

_Jim:_ See? How cute!

_VampireAlchemist:_ ***sigh*** Please Review!


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